


'Cause You May See Me In Different Bodies

by lookingfortherainbow



Series: Same Soul [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Banter, Cashier Harry, Comfort, Customer Louis, Feminine Harry, Fluff, Genderfluid Harry Styles, M/M, Masculine Louis, Meet-Cute, No Angst, No Smut, Pining, Trans Louis Tomlinson, Trans Male Louis Tomlinson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27135802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingfortherainbow/pseuds/lookingfortherainbow
Summary: “So, what’s your actual name?’The curved eyebrows go up, those deep blue eyes go wide, and Harry waits patiently.“What, you mean--you mean, like, my preferred name?”“Same thing, isn’t it?”A raspy chuckle follows that, and Harry inhales the whoosh of minty cologne that floats his way when the customer scratches at the nape of his neck, over the hair that has gone shaggier since he last saw him.--Harry knows the customers at the drug store he works at a little too well--except for the one that wears too many Adidas clothes.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Same Soul [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179704
Comments: 28
Kudos: 204





	'Cause You May See Me In Different Bodies

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my crush on the guy at the local drug store, and the need for more trans Louis and Harry in fics.  
> Title is from the song Same Soul by Pvris and Jaymes Young. Hope you enjoy!

It’s a busy day at the pharmacy when Harry is called over the intercom system to the pick-up section of the prescription counter. He sighs, dragging himself away from the cash register at the front of the drug store, wishing he could just hide in the breakroom until his shift is over. Normally, he likes his job, doesn’t mind it. Living in a small city means getting to know the people that come in and out. He enjoys that most customers don’t mind his ramblings, some polite enough to listen. Some are even friendly enough that they ask him things like ‘how’s your third year of college going?’ or ‘what’s your favorite discounted snack from here?’ or ‘what’s your minor this year, again?’. Harry knows that he talks too much, can tell from how Sam, his co-worker, always tunes him out at some point. One time Harry even started saying random shit just to count how many ‘That’s crazy, man’s he could get to before Sam finally started losing it and excused himself to go for a smoke break. He’s pretty sure his re-telling of the dream about trains was what did it. He’d gotten to six, and he won’t admit to anyone but himself that he’s proud of that accomplishment. 

“Can you help her, please,” Amanda, Harry’s favorite pharmacist asks of him, pointing to someone standing on the other side of the counter. 

It’s the same person Harry just caught looking at him not five seconds ago. 

“Yeah, sure thing. Hey, you picking up a prescription?” He asks unnecessarily, finally getting a good look at the girl in front of him. She confirms it in a quiet tone.

Harry doesn’t know if it’s the loneliness of mostly quarantining, but something about her makes him think he’s seen, even talked, to her before more than once. 

“What’s the name and date of birth?” Harry asks, signing into the computer system.

There’s a beat, and Harry looks up. He can’t quite tell, thanks to the mask covering her face, but the girl seems to flinch, glances at him for a second before her eyes dart to the computer and says, “Louise Tomlison, twelve, twenty-four, ninety-seven,” like it’s painful for her. 

Harry is puzzled by the tone but thanks her and types it in quickly. The results come up quickly, and he scrolls through everything, just needing to find where the three prescriptions are in the store. 

“Awesome, I’ll be right back with those,” he says, getting a brief crinkly eyed smile behind the mask. 

As he searches for the prescriptions, he keeps trying to recall why the customer looks so familiar. He’s worked at this store for most of his high school and his college years, and his memory isn’t terrible, so why it’s escaping him now is driving him mad. He blames it on the masks as he whisks through the aisles of pill bottles, feeling her eyes on him the whole time. 

“Alright! Finally found those for you!” He says in his best customer service voice, returning to the register, prescriptions in hand. 

Louise only shifts in her place, readjusting the mask over face stiffly. 

Harry starts ringing the items in, taking in the labels. Needles. . .more needles. . .syringes.. .testosterone. He glances up at Louise, and her eyes catch his, darting away again before he turns his head back. He types in the information needed, fingers fumbling on the keyboard. He can’t help how his eyes trace over Louise briefly. Taking in the baggy clothes, the short cut, the strained, low tone, the nervous twitch to her _\--his--_ mannerisms, it finally clicks in his head. It makes sense to him, considering how he’s dressed and presented. 

As he catches Harry’s eye again, Harry can see the look of recognition. It dawns on him. He’s seen him before in the store, on multiple occasions. It used to be a lot more a year ago, but he definitely recognizes those same eyes.

Trying to not trip over himself, he finishes the transaction. The boy doesn’t say anything to him, curved eyebrows furrowed as he slides his chip into the reader, and pays the co-pay. Harry studies his hands, how they’re knocking out a rhythm against the counter. 

He thinks they’re very nice hands, and the part of him that’s so used to sharing compliments with strangers argues against the way his front teeth bite into his bottom lip. 

He clears his throat and hands the boy his bag, saying with a smile under his mask, “Have a nice day.”

He gets another glimpse of those crinkly eyes and a muffled, ‘you too’, before the familiar customer walks briskly away. 

Harry kicks himself over not asking him what his actual name is. 

\--

Living in Iowa isn’t the worst. But in white suburbia where all the neighborhoods look just perfect enough, and the housing market is booming so much it’s rare for there to be a piece of land that hasn’t been developed in the last five years, it’s kind of rare to find someone who isn’t straight out of those cheesy cisgender, heterosexual love novels that Harry gave up on reading once he found out he could pretty much predict all their endings before the third chapter. 

So, it’s no wonder that that customer sticks in his mind. Harry’s been itching to find someone who’s a part of his community. Sure, the guy may not be gay or bisexual, could very well be a straight transman, but at least he’d know what it’s like to grow up in this area and not have much of a support group to even bring up topics of sexuality and gender to. Harry’s had to keep that to himself, for the most part. 

He thinks about the time three years ago when the guy came in, and as he was getting checked out, he complimented Harry’s curly hair that was so overgrown it was a beehive of knots on his head. He presented masculine then, too, and Harry feels a surge of pride now for the guy that he’s probably finally getting what he needs to feel comfortable in his body. Back then, he even went so far as to tell him he liked the silly smiley face Harry’d sharpied on his finger when Sam had escaped to the bathroom, and Harry got bored of not having anyone to talk to. Apparently, he got creative when he was forced to be quiet. 

In return, Harry had complimented his style, liking the skater aesthetic. He remembered wondering after that whether he was gender fluid, androgynous like Harry, liking the middle ground between the genders, feeling safe in the ambiguity of it. It was important that people felt seen. Harry made it a goal in his mind to make sure people felt safe when they were around him, and the need was even more urgent in this case. 

It’s another three whole months before he sees him again. When he walks through the doors, Harry has just finished organizing the lipsticks so they go from the lightest to darkest tones, shoving Sam away when he scolds him for not putting them where they actually belong. He’s gotten him to shut up after holding up different shades to Sam’s face, telling him he’s a winter, to avoid these particular shades especially. 

Amanda is calling to _his_ customer, telling him she’ll be a moment while still rearranging pills, and Harry scurries over before anyone but him can help the guy. He adjusts his bun, trying to recover from the chaotic dash he’s just made, and for once is grateful the mask is in place--they’re great for hiding blushes. 

He does the usual greeting, asks for the name and birthdate, doesn’t let his customer’s noticeable deeper pitch and exasperated sigh go unnoticed when he tells him his legal name, and then Harry hurries to get everything. This time, there is no one in line, so Harry musters up his courage, and leans forward on the counter.

“So, what’s your actual name?’

The curved eyebrows go up, those deep blue eyes go wide, and Harry waits patiently. 

“What, you mean--you mean, like, my preferred name?” 

“Same thing, isn’t it?”

A raspy chuckle follows that, and Harry inhales the whoosh of minty cologne that floats his way when the customer scratches at the nape of his neck, over the hair that has gone shaggier since he last saw him. 

“Louis,” he replies simply. 

Harry really likes his voice, and notices the difference. This reply comes with the sound of a smile. 

“Louis, huh? I like that. Well, here, Louis, are your prescriptions. I’ll make a note in our system so if I’m not here next time, they’ll know.”

“Thanks, man. It means a lot,” Louis says, eyes crinkling so hard the blue is mostly overshadowed by a curtain of scrunched eyelashes. “Been trying to get my name changed, but you know, money and covid have kind of made that a slow process.”

“No problem. They should have that be an option from the get-go, in my opinion.”

“Agreed,” Louis says, holding Harry’s gaze so intensely it makes him squirm a bit. “Hey, by the way, I’m loving the bun,” Louis compliments him, and Harry goes hot under his mask again. 

He brushes his fingers over his bun, smiling. “Hey, Sam! This guy approves of my bun!”

Sam’s head pops up from one of the aisles, no doubt sluggishly getting through re-stocking, and shakes his head at Harry. 

“It’s pretentious, and you can’t change my mind!”

Harry laughs, and notices Louis’ cocked head and raised brows. “Want me to deal with him?”

“No, no, he’s a saint. Puts up with my shit all the time,” Harry reassures. 

Louis shrugs. “Can’t be that hard to do when you’ve got gorgeous hair like that.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say. It’s been forever since a guy has flirted with him. In fact, he can’t remember the last time. It feels so good, and he doesn’t want to stop bantering with his customer. Before he knows it, though, he’s gone silent and nervous for too long, causing Louis to cough awkwardly, thank him again, and bid him farewell. 

Harry vows to do better next time--if there even is one. 

\--

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” Harry hears when he steps outside the back of the drugstore for his third smoke of the day. 

He rounds the corner, almost trips when he sees Louis’ face in full view, unobscured by a mask. It’s been two whole months since the last time he ran into him, and Louis’ facial changes are significant enough to make Harry second guess if that’s really him. The huge adidas hoodie and jacket, as well as the rapsy quality of his voice, and that mane of hair is what tells him he has the right person. 

“You know, kicking a flat tire isn’t really good for it. If anything, it probably only helps it deflate quicker,” Harry deadpans. 

Louis looks up, and Harry loses his breath for a moment, those blue eyes so sharp. The winter and snow around them seem to bring out the color even more. There’s a scraggly line of scruff that defines Louis’ jaw, makes a subtle shadow over his upper lip. His eyebrows are thicker, more defined. 

Harry takes a pull from his cigarette, lets out the stream of smoke with a bit more of a purse to his lips than is necessary. Crossing his arms, Louis leans against his car, shakes his head at Harry. His eyes are trained on Harry’s lips.

“You know, I used to smoke those, but then I heard they’re bad for your health,” Louis deadpans in the same way Harry just did. 

“Yeah, they also say pretty boys will break your heart, but I’m still standing here, heart in-tact. So, I figure, how right about cigarettes can they really be?” Harry grins around his next pull, watches Louis move to the front of his car, props his ass on the hood of it, lets himself be observed. 

“Is that an invitation of some sort?” Louis asks, smirk on his lips. 

Harry is leaning against the large square brick pillar, Louis more than six feet away, legs spread in a manner that makes Harry want to climb over his thick thighs and inhale _him_ like smoke instead.

“Mm, more like a challenge. You know, if you’re up to proving them right, and me wrong,” Harry teases, flicks the ash off his cigarette. 

“See, now, I’d never back down from a challenge, but I think I’d much rather prove you right,” Louis confides, grin growing slow as molasses, and warming Harry right down to his toes. 

“Is that code for you wanting to take me out?”

“I dunno. . .Is that code for you saying you want me to?”

Harry pouts at him, blows out his smoke with extra force while glaring at Louis.

“You’re cute when you pout. Even cuter with the blush. Compliments your lipstick” Louis says, watching as Harry’s face grows red. 

Harry looks up at him through his eyelashes, wants to keep that gaze of fondness that’s in Louis’ eyes ingrained in his brain as a solid memory. He’s never felt quite so appreciated. 

“What time do you get off,” Louis asks suddenly, grinning like mad. 

“Three,” Harry answers, a little breathlessly, his cigarette slipping from between his fingers into the snow and salt on the curb. He doesn’t even notice, until Louis chuckles, looking at where it landed and back at Harry’s flushed face. 

“I’ll be waiting for you here, with a new tire, at three, then. I’ll get my prescriptions then, I have to call a tow truck now,” Louis says, moreso to himself. To Harry, “I assume you have a negative covid test?”

“Duh, look at where I work.”

Louis laughs, and Harry could live off of that sound for the rest of his life. “Good, okay, just checking. I do, too.”

“I think it’s hot that you care,” Harry reassures him. 

“I think it’s hot that you don’t care. . .about me,” Louis confides, vaguely gestures to his body. 

Harry’s brows furrow. “You make it sound like you have some disease.”

“Yeah, well. . .you’d be surprised. People can act like that. . .even worse are the chasers,” Louis trails off, something dark falling over his face.

“Well, the only thing _I’m_ chasing after is a free meal,” Harry jokes, lightening the mood, instantly. 

Louis looks at him gratefully, eyes crinkling with a relieved smile. “Using me for free food, huh? I’m living the dream.”

“You’re _dating_ the dream, honey. See you at three.” Harry prances off with a wink and a little wave in Louis’ direction. 

He feels Louis’ eyes on him the whole way back into the store. He can’t wait to overwhelm Sam with his news. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! I'm also on [tumblr](https://andtheywerebandmates.tumblr.com) if you want to follow me on there!


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